


Warmth

by MykEsprit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift Fic, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit
Summary: Hermione wakes up in a bed that is most definitely not hers.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 158





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaarina_Riddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaarina_Riddle/gifts).



> A gift fic for the lovely Kaarina Riddle! Thanks to The Write Stuff for putting this together!

The cold Christmas air pulled Hermione from slumber. Her exposed arms tingled as goosebumps formed. With her eyes still glued together, she tucked herself back under the covers and willed sleep to take over once more. As she breathed deeply, the edge of her consciousness wondered why the air didn’t feel as cool and crisp as it should have been. Instead, it smelled like a forest in late summer—a hint of musk, the warmth of wood, and the calming scent of clean earth.

This was not her room. Her room had been smelling like ginger biscuits since the start of the holiday season. Her pillows were fluffy clouds of marshmallow, and the firm one on which she was currently resting her head told her this was also  _ not _ her bed.

As her sleepy mind pieced the clues together, her body instinctively sought out warmth. She burrowed under the covers, wriggling back towards a source of heat. Her flesh met a warm wall; at least, she had thought so, until she realized that the wall was moving in a rhythmic pattern. And that, unlike a solid wall, it was firm yet pliant, she thought as she leaned back against it, nothing hard at all, except for the substantial rod pressed against the curve of her ar—

Her eyes flew open.

Memories of the night before flooded her.

The easy flow of conversation among friends. Laughter that loosened every muscle on her shoulders. Accidental touches when she walked at his side. Mulled wine that slid sweetly down her throat and bolstered her confidence. A kiss she stole under the mistletoe. How he responded in kind.

And,  _ oh _ , how he responded.

Carefully, she turned around. His hair was warm molasses where the morning sun touched him. His eyes were still closed, the skin between them relaxed and unwrinkled. Hermione longed to run her fingertips along the scruff on his jaw. She remembered its texture on the edge of her teeth; and how it felt on other parts of her body, launching her past the stratosphere.

Her lower muscles twinged at the memory, and—before she could stop herself—she sighed a moan.

Clear, green eyes met hers. 

Hermione bit the insides of her cheeks.

“Good morning,” Remus rasped.

She stared at him inanely. Sleep had scurried away at the moment she felt his hardness on her bum, so she had nothing to blame for her sudden lack of words but her silliness. Well, perhaps, the way a corner of his lips turned up—which wasn’t at all helping her aching down-there muscles—was a little to blame.

He laughed quietly. Reaching for her, he threaded his fingers into her curls. “Happy Christmas.”

Her gaze flitted over the sharp angles of his face; the hollow of his collarbones; the firm expanse of his chest and down his torso, down to where the blanket hid the rest of his glorious body in shadows. “‘Happy’ doesn’t cover it,” she mumbled.

“What?”

Her guilty gaze flicked up to his face; his eyes were crinkled with amusement. “Happy Christmas to you, too,” she croaked.

“Would you like breakfast?”

“Sure,” she said, her greedy hands lying flat against his chest. “Maybe.” Her arms wrapped around him, fingers splayed on the small of his back. “Later,” she mumbled in the crook of his neck as she settled deeper into his warmth.

His laughter rumbled against her. “All right.” Remus pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. “Later.”


End file.
